


Fifteen

by orphan_account



Category: Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Affection, Aftercare, BDSM, Consensual Kink, Discipline, Dom/sub Play, M/M, Masochism, Safewords, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 04:51:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2096418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Sycamore has been misbehaving; Lysandre will simply have to do something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fifteen

"And just what was that back in the cafe?"

In the middle of hanging up his coat and kicking off his boots, Augustine glanced up at Lysandre curiously. "What do you mean?" he asked, taking in the minute hints of body language and expression, coming to a quick conclusion - a hint of anger, but no true rage; a touch of frustration, a veneer of disappointment - an undercurrent of promise.

One of Lysandre's eyes twitched faintly. "You know precisely what I mean," he said softly, the fierce blue of his eyes sharp. "Why were you acting like that?"

Definitely an undercurrent of promise, and Augustine took on an air of calculated innocence. "You mean, being my usual charming self?" he said brightly, feeling his breathing quicken a little as Lysandre took a step towards him. "What did you think I was doing?"

"I think," Lysandre murmured, crossing the distance between the two, dropping his hand on Augustine's shoulder and squeezing, "You were trying to distract me. I think you were trying to get me to abandon my work and pay some attention to you."

"Did it work?" he squeaked.

Lysandre smiled, and it was a dangerous smile. "It did," he said, lowering his lips to Augustine's ear, the heat of his breath licking along his skin. "I think you will have to be punished for that. Don't you agree?"

An electric shiver like a physical touch ran down his spine, and Augustine's breath caught in his throat. "Y-yes," he whispered, and the electricity coiled at the base of his spine.

"Get into the bedroom," Lysandre told him, giving his shoulder a little push, and Augustine practically tripped over himself in his haste to get there, Lysandre close behind. "Strip," he ordered as he closed the door, and swallowing back his anticipation, he nodded.

First, his socks - there was no sexy way to remove them that he had found, and they simply had to go. As Lysandre settled on the bed, lounging back as if it was a throne, he found himself playing it up - unbuttoning each button on his shirt one by one, slow to reveal skin, reveling in the hunger he could see in Lysandre's eyes as he undressed.

Next, the belt, and here he glanced up at Lysandre questioningly, asking silently if they would be using it tonight. Lysandre shook his head minutely, flicking his fingers, and he obediently dropped it to the floor.

Unbuttoning the top button of his trousers, Augustine glanced up through his hair, hiding the faint smile that came to his lips at the sight of Lysandre shifting, clearly already anticipating what was to come (in which case, he had the distinct advantage - his punishments could take several forms, and Augustine had no idea which one in particular he had planned for this evening). Carefully, always mindful of Lysandre and his gaze, he drew down the zipper, sighing at the sensation of the metal against his growing hardness.

He slid the trousers down past his hips, making the movements achingly slow, biting his lip to drown out the little voice telling him to hurry up, to get closer to Lysandre, always anticipating the next move. His underwear followed and he let out his breath slowly as he straightened up, shivering at the obvious pleasure in Lysandre's eyes.

"Come here," Lysandre ordered quietly, and he was scrambling on to the bed, kneeling before him, almost painfully hard, hands on his knees and head bowed as he tried to calm the frenetic hammering of his heart.

There was a faint metal clink, the sound of a buckle, as Lysandre reached under one of the pillows and drew his hand out again. A second later, the sensation of smooth velvet touched the back of his neck, and he lifted his head automatically to allow him to fasten the collar.

"Comfortable?" Lysandre inquired, and Augustine let out a quiet murmur of confirmation. "Good." And then Lysandre hooked two fingers inside the collar and yanked him into his lap, claiming his lips with a searing kiss that sent Augustine reeling and his heart racing. "You've been very bad," he whispered harshly against his mouth, and Augustine's hands tightened on Lysandre's legs, almost shaking with anticipation. "I'm going to have to punish you. Safe word is 'keystone'. Lie over my lap."

It was a good thing Lysandre couldn't see his face, Augustine decided as he stretched out over Lysandre's lap, fighting off the urge to rub against his thighs as he did so. It probably wasn't a good idea to be smiling as much as he was in the face of what was meant to be a punishment.

"Count off," Lysandre said, and, without warning or preamble, brought his hand down hard on Augustine's ass.

Augustine let out a cry, intermingled pain and pleasure, the contact making his skin tingle and prickle, forcing the, "One!" through lips that mostly just wanted to moan at the sensation. His eyes closed; the room was otherwise silent, it was touch that would guide him now.

"Good," Lysandre said clearly, and brought his hand down again, receiving a whimpered 'two' in response. "If you get up to ten without missing any, I'll give you a reward."

Nodding frantically, the sheets balled up in his hands, Augustine exhaled and waited for the next blow, eyes tightly shut. "Three," he groaned when it finally came, dropping his head into his hands.

The temptation to rub up against Lysandre's thighs becoming almost overwhelming. Biting down on his lip as he shifted, he was gratified to find an answering hardness nudging his hip, and the sharp blow he received as he moved made stars burst in front of his closed eyes. "Four," he whispered.

"Stay still," Lysandre chided, and he froze, his word as compelling and as unyielding as a physical restraint would be. "You wouldn't want anyone thinking you were enjoying being punished, would you?"

But there was a hint of affection in his voice despite the harder, more dominant tone he had adopted, and Augustine hid his smile as he shook his head. "N-no."

"No what?" he prompted as he brought his hand down again, the sound of flesh being struck obscenely loud in the quiet of the bedroom.

"No, sir. Five."

"Good boy."

"Six!"

He was so hard it hurt, refusing (as per his order) to rub against Lysandre's legs, the deeper ache contrasting and building on the stinging, sharp pain from Lysandre's punishment, building into pleasure and circling into pain again, a positive feedback loop. Augustine was shaking, sweating, his breathing coming in short pants as he pressed his forehead against one arm, the sheets creasing in his grip.

It was wonderful and it hurt, the part of him that craved the pain seizing on it, building it up, fighting against the deeper and more instinctual, animalistic part that realized that pain was an indication of something wrong, the part that wanted to cry and whimper, and he felt a few unbidden tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

"S-seven!"

And he couldn't understand it, could not, despite all his knowledge in other areas, begin to rationalise why he craved this so much - being putty in Lysandre's hands, being his and his alone, his to do whatever he wished him to do. He could not write a paper on why the anticipation of the next blow made him whimper in excitement, not fear; why the sting of his undoubtedly reddened skin fed into pleasure.

But he still knew that he loved it, loved this.

"Eight!"

Two more, and he'd get his reward, and he was already trembling, goosebumps raised on his skin, counting the seconds until the next hit. And wasn't that an appropriate term? This was a drug - potentially destructive, definitely pleasurable, undeniably addictive.

"Nine!"

One more. Just one more, and he was shaking uncontrollably, his breath coming in ragged pants, waiting for destruction and salvation in the palm of Lysandre's hand, tears dripping down his cheeks and biting his lip bloody to hold back his whimpering.

Just one more...

"Ten," he sighed, feeling Lysandre rub the ache away, glancing back over his shoulder at him. "Do - do I get my reward now?" he asked hopefully.

A smile quirked Lysandre's lips. "I think you've earned it," he said thoughtfully, "For accepting your punishment so well. Get on all fours."

Forcing his uncooperative legs to move, he pushed himself up, every limb feeling leaden despite his mounting excitement. Lysandre slipped out from under him, and the bed dipped from the direction of his feet.

Exhaling, Augustine spread his knees, hands still clinging to the sheets, glancing once over his shoulder at the clink of Lysandre's belt, the sound of a zip being drawn down, the sound of lubricant being squeezed out of its tube. "Is this what you want?" Lysandre practically breathed, one hand squeezing Augustine's abused ass possessively, the very tip of his cock between his cheeks.

"Yes," Augustine breathed, "Lysandre, please..."

"Please, what?" Lysandre's voice was mild, pleasant, and Augustine could only just distinguish the slightly faster rate of his breathing. "I think, if you want your reward, you'll have to ask me for it."

Augustine groaned once, desperately. "Please, Lysandre, please, I -" The words spilled out, unfiltered, unbidden. "Please, I want you to fuck me, I need it, _please_ fuck me, pl-please..."

Lysandre chuckled darkly. "Well, since you asked so nicely," he murmured, sliding forward inch by torturous inch.

Augustine's hands tightened in the sheets, that electric shiver building at the base of his spine again. "Faster," he moaned, then yelped sharply as Lysandre's hand came down again.

"I will deliver your reward in my own time," he said, and Augustine could practically hear the smile. "I'm still displeased at your behaviour, remember. Keep counting."

He nodded frantically, and breathed, "Eleven."

"Good." And then he moved, a howl erupting from Augustine's lips as Lysandre's hips slapped against his stinging ass. There was a brief pause, Lysandre caressing him with a soothing hand in silent apology before grasping his hips again, pulling back and slamming home again. "Once we get to fifteen," he said, and even through the haze of pain and pleasure, Augustine was gratified to hear the catch in his voice, "I will let you come."

Down came his hand again, more gentle than earlier, and Augustine gasped, "Twelve!" as he pushed back, lifting his hips, spreading his legs, encouraging Lysandre to go deeper.

"You just wanted my attention, didn't you?" Lysandre said, pulling back and delivering another stinging slap.

("Thirteen!")

"You wanted me all to yourself," he continued, "To distract me, since running a cafe as well as a laboratory keeps taking me away from you. Is this what you wanted?"

Augustine didn't answer immediately, swallowing past the lump in his throat, fighting against the pleasure that was starting to overwhelm him. With a groan, he dropped down to his elbows, head resting in his hands, fingers twining frantically through his hair. "Yes," he whispered, "I - miss you, I wanted you to take me h-home and fuck me and - f-fourteen! Please - Lysandre - let me come..."

His entire body felt like a bowstring, taut and tense, the smallest gesture posed to send him over the edge, gritting his teeth to hold it back until Lysandre would let him. But he was close, so close, positive that just the slightest touch would do the trick, pressing his face, wet with sweat and tears, against his arms...

"Alright," Lysandre said simply, leaning forward to drop a kiss against the back of his neck then pulling back and bringing his hand down hard. And supernovae burst behind Augustine's eyes, the intended call of fifteen never making it past the scream that erupted from his throat, the electric tingle becoming an inferno as the world became blotted out in white.

Dimly, he was aware of Lysandre finishing up himself and pulling out, and, no longer supported, he fell bonelessly to the mattress, focusing on slowing his heart, on controlling his tears, of catching his breath. Beside him, the bed dipped as Lysandre stretched out beside him and pulled him close, and his eyes fell shut at the gentle hand in his hair, the other rubbing soothingly from shoulder to hip.

"Good," Lysandre breathed, "You were very good, Augustine. You handled that magnificently. I'm not displeased with you any more." Leaning in to steal a kiss, this one an infinity more tender than the one from earlier, he pressed another against his forehead, brushing Augustine's damp hair away as he unbuckled the collar. "How do you feel?"

Augustine let out a murmur, shivering as he curled up in Lysandre's arms, feeling the endorphins and adrenaline fading, like he had only the most tenuous grasp on his own limbs. "Good," he whispered. "Kind of cold. Coming down now."

Lysandre shifted, the drawer of the night stand opening and closing again, and Augustine let out a little sigh as he returned with a blanket and a bar of chocolate, the silence chased away as he switched on the music player to something relaxing. "Here," Lysandre murmured, breaking off a square with a snap, and he happily accepted it as Lysandre resumed petting and stroking him, nuzzling his hair, whispering quiet reassurances and promises in his ear.

He was shivering, but warming up. He had been punished, but he had got his reward. He was sore, but feeling adored. And as the endorphins drained away and was replaced by exhaustion, his universe shrinking down to soft breathing and warm skin and the man he loved, Augustine decided he definitely needed to attract Lysandre's attention more often.


End file.
